NOVEL NEXT Chapter 18
My father stood up from his pile of books, and we each approached the other.
“Hey, Da,” I said nervously.
He reached his arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug. “Only a couple of days and it already feels like it’s been months since I’ve seen you, ah—“ He paused, pulling away from me, and staring me in the face as he held me by the shoulders. “Would you prefer I call you Pearl?”
I felt my face heat up. So he really was somehow just taking this pretending to be a girl thing in stride. But why, I wondered? I knew he loved me, but you’d think he’d at least say something about how silly it was, or acknowledge that he was just humoring me. Instead, he was just playing along with it as though it were perfectly natural.
“Da—“ I began but hesitated. I wanted to understand what his reasoning was, why he was letting me dress and pretend to be a maid when I so obviously wasn’t a real girl. But I was worried that if I poked too hard against the thin glass of this whole charade, it would shatter. “P-Pearl is fine,” I muttered, looking away. As always, I was such a coward.
He gave me a beaming smile in reply, pulling me into yet another crushing hug. “Then Pearl it is.” Releasing me once more, he pushed up his glasses and asked, “How’s maid work been treating you? Are you enjoying it?”
I nodded, trying not to think too hard about how increasingly flirty Lady Camilla had become or about our kiss from this morning. Not to mention the sex with Lena and meeting one of the Praevi. How had so much happened in just a single day?! “It’s been... exciting,” I said, completely understating it.
He let out a bit of a sigh. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. If you ever decide that you want to come back here though, I want you to know that I’ll accept you as you are, alright? You seemed so excited to be a librarian beforehand, and if you want to continue with that, I’d be thrilled to have you back,” he paused, emphasizing his next few words, “as my daughter.”
“Umm.” I wasn’t sure how to respond. Had he somehow realized just how badly I wanted to be a girl? Was that why he wasn’t protesting this whole thing, perhaps in fear that he would push me away if he did?
“I’m not trying to pressure you from being a maid if you enjoy it, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to stick with it to be yourself. I’ll accept you, no matter who you find yourself to be.” He twisted his mouth and his eyebrows furrowed. “Am I making any sense?”
“Of course, Da.” Had my desire to be a girl truly been so obvious all along? As thrilling as this adventure of mine had been thus far, I couldn’t lie to myself. A big part of me did want to come back to this cozy little library, to reading books for most of the day and relaxing up on the roof. Real adventures were turning out to be a bit different from the ones I’d often read about. As much as I loved the idea of going adventuring out into the Empire, of saving damsels and fighting great monsters, I was struggling just to save myself. But with how many things stood in the way of my return to the library, it was a task easier said than done anytime soon. I glanced up to meet his eyes, coming to the decision that I felt was right. “I’d love to come back to the library, but I have promised to serve Camilla for a few months first. I hope that’s alright?” That was strictly speaking the truth, and it gave me the time I needed to stop my curse and the wedding. Surely it wouldn’t take longer than a few months, I figured. Then things could go back to the way they were before.
His smile was so bright that I could almost feel it piercing my soul. “Responsible of you,” he commented. “Sometimes it amazes me just how much you’ve grown. Ah! While I’m thinking about it, I have a gift for you. Wait right here.” He scurried away to the back, leaving me standing there still mildly confused. When he came back he had a bundle of cloth in his hands. “After the other day, I realized that you’d likely want some new clothing that isn’t just maid’s attire. So I had the tailor make a dress. The first of many, I hope.” My eyes flicked up from the dress in his hands to look back at him. He seemed to notice the concern on my face as he said, “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her anything. I simply said it was a gift for someone. I’m sure she expects that I’m finally trying to find a new wife again. Though I dare not guess who she thinks it might be.” He shuddered, and I smiled.
As he walked up to me once more, I couldn’t help but notice just how uncertain he seemed. I stared down at the dress yet again, my mind struggling to understand how this was happening. What strange alternative world had I found myself in for my father to be buying me a dress, I wondered? Even if he was worried about pushing me away, surely he realized how much of a farce this was? I could never truly be a girl, only a boy playing pretend. Why would he entertain this whole thing to this extent? Was he really this afraid of losing me?
He held it out to me, and dumbfounded, I grabbed onto it. Twisting it around, I held it out, getting a look at the front. It was a long modest dress, a thicker light blue cloth with long sleeves and a high neck, likely meant for winter.
Looking back up to him, I tried to figure out what to say, anything to say rather than staring at him blankly. “Umm, I — why?”
He tilted his head. “Can’t a father buy his daughter a dress?” He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his lips.
Normally, I’d roll my eyes at something like this. Instead, I just stared, confused.
His face shifted. “Should I not have? Would you have preferred something else?”
I glanced back down. “I — no, it’s beautiful.” I blushed, barely believing the words coming out of my mouth. But the truth was that it did look quite cute. “I just, I don’t understand… why you’re going along with this.” There, I’d said. For better or worse, I’d confronted the monster in the room.
His hand reached out and touched my upper arm. “Pearl, my beautiful daughter.” My eyes widened at his casual use of the phrase. “I have no qualms with you being yourself. I never have.” He gave me a small gentle smile.
“But — I’m not a girl! I’ll never be a girl! Not truly.”
He gave me a sigh and shook his head. “Not this again.”
I blinked, giving him a look of confusion. “Huh?”
“I was really hoping you’d maybe gotten past this. Maybe I was being a little optimistic. You’ve always been too stubborn for your own good, Pearl.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
He gave me a look. “Surely you remember when…” His voice trailed off. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”
“I — Forgotten what?” I clutched the blue dress tightly in my hands.
He looked into my eyes and his expression softened. “Back when your mother was still with us…” He paused, and through his eyes, I could see how hard this was for him to speak about her. “You came running home one evening saying that you wanted to be a girl. We were confused at first, but your mother convinced me that we should allow it if that was what you wanted. So we got you some dresses, and your mother started introducing you to some of the more traditionally feminine things a girl learned growing up. You seemed so happy that we decided we’d support you fully, until either you grew up to become a woman of your own, or you changed your mind. We knew it wouldn’t be easy, not with how others were likely to treat you, but…”
I stared at him, stunned. I… didn’t remember any of this. Why didn’t I remember this? It was obviously from when I was quite young and my mother was alive. But I remembered my mother, I remembered spending time with her, her holding me in her arms, her tucking me into bed and giving me a kiss, her calming smile. How could I forget something like this?
“Then a few months later… your mother passed. You were still fairly young, and I think you only partly understood it. A few weeks later, you came home crying and saying you couldn’t be a girl anymore. I think some of the boys around town began to harass you over it. I tried to do what I could but… well, I wasn’t at my best, and you seemed intent on giving up on it.”
I frowned as a vision, a forgotten memory, flashed through my mind. An older boy stood above me, as I was sprawled out on the ground. He smirked as his foot spread mud on my dress, and tears dripped from my eyes.
My father touched my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I really should have done better. It was a vulnerable moment for you, and I wasn’t there as much as I should have been.”
“Da…” I moved forward, wrapping my arms around him. “You were fine, alright? It’s not your fault. You were grieving.” He hugged me back but didn’t respond. I knew he was still blaming himself. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’m not really a girl,” I said in a low voice.
“Hey.” He released me, pulling back and getting down onto one knee. His hands reached out to grab my own. “It doesn’t matter how you were born or what we thought when you were little. You’ll always be my little girl as long as you want to be.”
“But—“
“No buts,” he said firmly. “I’ll admit that I don’t really know what I’m doing here. Your mother was always better at this kind of thing. But I’m here for you. I’ll always accept you, no matter who you find that you are.”
“It’s not real,” I insisted, though without much force behind it.
“It feels real to you, doesn’t it?”
I sniffled and nodded. A lot of the time, it did feel real, so very real. It was what I truly wanted. Yet I couldn’t help but think of the moments where I felt like a boy playing pretend; when reality seemed to stare down at me with a firm reminder of what I really was, kicking me through the mud.
“Then don’t let others tell you otherwise.”
“But wasn’t I born a boy?” Wasn’t that what ultimately mattered the most, the thing that truly made someone either a girl or boy, inside and out? How could it matter how I felt when reality itself seemed to so obviously disagree?
His hands rubbed my back. “Didn’t I say ‘no buts?’” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip raised up. “What’s it matter what was said when you were born? You talk like it’s all chiseled into stone, like there’s some law out there that determines who you can be. There’s so much more to being a man or woman than something that simple.”
“Da, I have a— Well, you know what I have.” I gave him a firm stare. It was too embarrassing to say the word. “Surely if anything should matter, it’s what is between my legs.”
He paused before saying, “I’ve had a lot of years to think about this. I always suspected that we’d have a conversation about this again, though I never expected it to go exactly like this. Still, I’ve had plenty of time to ponder it.
“You’ve read the story of Thellon, the grey warrior?” At my slow nod, he said, “Then you probably remember the scene where, in the heat of battle, he loses his ‘manhood.’” I blushed slightly, embarrassed to be having a conversation like this with him, but gave another couple of nods. “What’s interesting is that after losing it, the story from then on seems to almost consider him more of a man than ever before. At a later point in the narrative, another character taunts him about it, calling him a woman in men’s clothes. Thellon just stands his ground, asserting that his bloodied victory in battle, his bravery, and heroism, makes him more of a man than the other fellow could ever dream of being.
“I couldn’t help but agree with his sentiment. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t bed a woman and have children or that he had lost what people often consider to be most essential to being a man. He felt like more of a man to me than he had at the beginning of the story. The specifics of his words, however, didn’t make sense to me. Could women not be brave and heroic? Could they not fight and experience war? And would any of that somehow make them men? Clearly not, in my mind. But if it was not any of those things that made him more of a man, what did?”
My father stared deep into my eyes, his gaze holding my own. “There was only one conclusion that I could find that really made sense to me. It was not his body, nor his experiences or bravery. Instead what I believed mattered was what was in his heart. Thellon believed himself to be and felt like more of a man, and thus he was one. It was his heart and soul that determined his manhood more than anything else.”
I couldn’t help but be somewhat speechless. Still, one nagging thought lingered. “He was born a boy though, wasn’t he? Wouldn’t it make sense for him to stay one even if he lost his, umm, you know?” I gestured vaguely downward.
My father smiled. “But there’s more to the story than just that of Thellon, interestingly enough. You may or may not remember Khob, the character that dressed as a man to join the war against the Forans.”
I frowned. “That was different though; he, or she, did it to protect people. Because his home was in danger. They had to dress as a man in order to fight.”
“Was it different? If you recall at the end, he never went back to living as a woman. It was implied that he continued to be a man even after the war had ended. It was what his heart desired.”
“It’s different,” I protested weakly.
He gave me a smile. “I don’t believe it is. There are plenty of stories with similar characters out there, many of them based on real people. It was actually how your mother originally convinced me. And while I don’t know of anyone else in this town who is similar, I’ve heard of this kind of thing happening in other nearby towns as well. Though they aren’t often treated well.” He paused, giving me a look of worry.
“I don’t know that I’m necessarily an expert on this, but I do believe that what’s most important is what is in your heart.” His hand tapped against my upper chest.
“Da, I don’t know what to say.” I felt a tear roll down my cheek.
He smiled once more. “Neither do I, sweetheart.” He pulled me into another hug, and a distinctly bubbly feeling developed inside me. “You don’t have to say anything.”
I gave him a tight hug back, several tears falling down my chin.
In a quieter voice, he said, “In some of the older stories, I’ve found that they have a name they use for those like you.”
My eyes widened, “There’s — there’s a name for it?”
“They called them a Vergent Soul. In the older stories, they’re spoken of endearingly rather than with hostility. For some reason, the word fell out of use over time.”
Vergent Soul. I mouthed the words. To think that there had been a name for it this entire time. That there had been enough people like me that they’d made a word, an entire identity around it. It really showed the true power of knowledge and reading, didn’t it?
I sniffled once more, my eyes now fully soaked in tears, and tightened my hold around him. Was this really alright? Was I truly allowed to be a girl?
A large part of me couldn’t help but still feel unconvinced. It all felt too simple, in a way, and I knew others would likely disagree with my father. Especially the local priest. But if my father was alright with this, if he truly felt that there was nothing wrong with me trying to be a girl, perhaps it wasn’t as wrong as I’d thought? Could the heart really be that important in deciding what makes someone a man or woman? I was skeptical but had to admit there was at least some truth to it. Being a girl was what I wanted more than anything, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to follow my heart to wherever it led, at least for a bit.
